


Every Night

by May1974



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Parent John Winchester, Bad Sibling Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Whump, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Gen, I'm Sorry, Not Beta Read, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-27 03:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17758619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May1974/pseuds/May1974
Summary: The older Sam got, the more he hated John. The more Sam hated John, the more the two of them fought - a father and his son, two men who should have never fought in the first place - and Dean couldn't handle the fighting. It tore him apart, made him hurt - but he could never share what he felt with his brother and father, because there was no way they could ever understand. And waiting for it to just end was killing Dean.(So, I had a writing challenge in English- it was one of those 55 word short stories with a theme. I ended up taking what I wrote and making a longer version, and voila! - the idea for this small fanfic was born).P.S. This is not edited by anyone other than myself. I apologize for mistakes.





	Every Night

**Every Night**

* * *

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall, glaring at the little black numbers—it was 1:00AM. He didn’t even know why he was still awake. He had showered until he was squeaky clean, had brushed his teeth, and had bandaged himself, too. He had even taken several nighttime Advil pills in hopes that the drugs could help dull the pain from his new collection of multi-coloured bruises. Well, there was that, and the fact that he just wanted to go to sleep.

He hadn’t been able to catch a full night’s sleep in months, and it was slowly driving him insane. Nothing was helping.

He had gone through the whole routine. The whole _normal_ routine. It was something that usually calmed him—being able to control something in his fucked-up life—and he couldn’t understand why it didn’t work now. All he wanted was to close his eyes and let sleep engulf him, and maybe if he was lucky enough, his eyes would never open again.

The familiar sound of the front door opening reached his ears, and Dean shut his eyes tight. The dark shadows suddenly seemed inviting. You could hear the door from anywhere in the house, really. The old place had been put up for rent really cheap, and Dean was suspecting that he knew why, because either the door was just loud, or he had gained superhuman hearing. He doubted that it was the latter. Then the door slammed shut, and heavy footsteps entered, followed by deep voices. Loud, yelling voices. Alone, Dean could normally tell the difference between the two—but together, it was harder. The voices twisted and entwined together, each one yelling louder than the other, trying to be heard. It was a father and his son. There were scary sounds, too. Thuds, shattering glass; one of them swore profusely, cursing the other.

The door slammed again, signifying that one had left.

Dean already knew it was his brother by the sound of his walk, and Sam started to stomp down the hallway, _and please_ , Dean pleaded mentally, _not my room. Please, not me. Not tonight. I’m asleep, I’m asleep. I want to be asleep._

Every night it was the same. He wanted it to end—he couldn’t take it anymore. Tears pricked at his eyes as his brother continued to swear and curse their father, a man that he should love and respect. A man that _Dean_ should love and respect. When was it going to end? Waiting was going to kill Dean. He glanced at the clock on the wall—it was 1:13AM.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (I wrote this instead of updating my other book - I hate writer's block).


End file.
